


Eres Tú

by rhoflor



Series: One Shots | Dylan O'Brien [5]
Category: American Assassin - Vince Flynn
Genre: F/M, Mitch Rapp is a softie, Mitch Rapp must be protected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 18:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15079367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhoflor/pseuds/rhoflor
Summary: Y/N contemplates Mitch while he sleeps.





	Eres Tú

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been feeling kind of in a sad romantic mood and wanted to write the obvious soft side of this amazing badass. Also, this is inspired by Carla Morrison's "Eres Tú".

It’s late. Early, perhaps? I don’t really know what to call it. It’s four-forty-five in the morning and I can’t sleep. Tonight is—was my last night with Mitch and I just didn’t feel like sleeping. I didn’t want to feel as if time stopped only to wake up next morning and say goodbye. I understand that it’s his job but you can’t really blame me, the man’s an assassin or as he sometimes likes to say _private contractor_ but to me, he’s so much more than that. He’s kind, he’s loving, he’s caring but most importantly, he’s mine.

I turn on the bed for what seems like the thousandth time, this time facing him. I place my right arm under the pillow and tuck my left hand under my chin. My left leg on top of my right one. My toes slightly inching towards his hairy shin. I don’t want to wake him up. He looks so peaceful, so calm. His breathing is quiet and rhythmic.

“Oh, baby,” I whisper almost inaudibly.

My eyes travel to the top of his head, his long hair messy and sprawled all over the pillow. A single strand hanging by his relaxed forehead. The creases by his never-ending frown are barely visible at this hour. His eyes moving rapidly under his heavy lids. My gaze moves lower and it stops at his mouth. His lips are slightly apart and there is a little bit of drool by his left corner. His week-old beard is messy and covers most of those moles I love. Mitch says he doesn’t really like them but I find them so beautiful, it’s like he has a whole universe written all over his face and body. He looks so serene.

 _I have a thirst for caressing you._ I wanna run the back of my hand along your cheek, I wanna massage my fingers over the muscles of your back. I want to entangle myself with you and never let go. _You’re so intoxicating._

“It’s you,” the phrase leaves my lips softly.

I wish I could contemplate you without counting the time that goes by. I feel like I can’t really do anything with Mitch without _waiting_. Waiting for the next time he’s gonna get a phone call letting him know he’s needed elsewhere. Waiting by my burner phone sleeplessly for those sporadic calls. Scared of that one phone call announcing his death.

I try to enjoy my time with him as much as I can. I’ve learned to picture him only with my memories. I’ve marked his lips, the way they feel against mine, the way the short, thick hairs grazes my soft skin. I only want to spend a little more time by his side.

_I love looking at you… having you… hugging you._

“When I’m by your side, goodness in me blossoms.” I sigh as I look at his hand a few inches away from mine.

It’s you, baby. You are a magnet of precious energy. It’s your soul that signals my body when it asks for that sweet, exhilarating scent of yours inviting me in.

I hate that we have different plans. I hate that your job is so dangerous and I hate feeling like every goodbye could be our last. I just wish for us to be together in peace. I wish for more moments like this. I wish for us to be happy together, to go to the park and have a picnic, for you to be laughing so hard your eyes start to water. I wish for us to be able to go to the beach and enjoy the calmness of the ocean waves.

“You’re always on my mind.”

It’s true. Mitch seems to be all I ever think about. Whenever I’m at work, I remember he’s either away on a mission or waiting for me to get home. At night, I wish it was him who holds me tight instead of the cold emptiness. When I’m in his arms, my heart fills with love and warmth. I feel the safest when I’m with him.

I turn on the bed once again. I grab his arm and place it across my torso and keep it close to my heart where he can feel it beating repeatedly. Where my veins and arteries so subtly enjoy loving him so much.

I feel him stir in his place, moving closer to me followed by a pair of lips against the cold skin of my shoulder and I relax into him.

“ _It’s only you_.”


End file.
